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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343279">the backseat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensira/pseuds/sensira'>sensira</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Dialogue Heavy, Multi, Team Bonding, Vignette, the monabus is one elaborate team building experience</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:56:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensira/pseuds/sensira</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p> <i> "Lettin' Ann drive was a mistake," says Ryuji. </i></p>
  <p>    <i>Reluctantly, Akira can't help but agree as Ann pulls a sharp turn and his head cracks against the fake glass of the window. It still hurts, even if the bus is actually a cat. Morgana squeals as his tire tread screeches against the rails, and the sound echoes through the hauntingly empty tunnels of Mementos.</i></p>
  <p>    <i>"Everyone gets a chance to drive the Monabus," Akira elects to say instead, mustering up his best imitation of someone calm, collected and not anxious that Ann's next swerve is going to send them all flying through the windshield.</i></p>
  <p>    <i>Would that hurt Morgana? What corresponding body part makes the most sense to be the equivalent of a windshield? This is an entirely stupid train of thought. </i></p>
  <p>    <i>"How'd you do on midterms?" </i></p>
  <p><i>Ryuji groans. "Dude! Why the hell would you bring that up!?" </i> </p>
</blockquote>Conversations from the backseat of the Monabus, spanning from 5/7 to 2/2. Featuring various thieves in various combinations.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kitagawa Yusuke &amp; Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke &amp; Sakamoto Ryuji, Kitagawa Yusuke &amp; Takamaki Ann, Kurusu Akira &amp; Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira &amp; Takamaki Ann, Sakamoto Ryuji &amp; Takamaki Ann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. may 7th</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After all the shadows, the ordeal with Nakanohara, and the horrifying experience of watching a cat transform into a talking bus, Ryuji collapses into the backseat with a groan. He’s caked in more sweat than he ever was back when he still ran track, skin still singing with the lingering traces of lightning. If he had a mirror, he’d bet half of his hair is standing up straight from the static.</p><p>Ann flops into the middle row with a sigh, and Akira climbs up into the driver’s seat. Morgana purrs to life and sets off on the twisted subway tunnels. His annoying little cat voice crackles faintly over the radio, as Akira chats with him in low tones.</p><p>Ryuji hasn’t been in a car in years, but the red leather interior is kind of nice, he has to admit. And at least the seats aren’t all furry. That would be a nightmare. As Morgana trundles along the rails, the bumpy jolts settle into a gentler rocking; the purrs relaxing in its own weird way. It doesn’t help that Mementos is dark and warm and so, so red. Like a mother’s womb, except filled with a bunch of monsters.</p><p>Ryuji is falling asleep before he even realizes it, somewhere in that weird, warm state between dreams and reality when something flicks hard against his cheek.</p><p>“I’m bored,” says Ann, when Ryuji opens his eyes. She’s frowning down at him, chin propped up against the back of the middle row.</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Entertain me!”</p><p>“Uh,” Ryuji starts. “You’ve kinda put me on the spot here.”</p><p>She stares at him patiently, fingers drumming on the leather. “Uh,” he tries again, “you see the new Featherman special?”</p><p>“Ugh,” a flat look. “I’m coming back there.”</p><p>“I’m literally tryin’ to sleep here.”</p><p>“Up!” Her leg kicks at his side as it swings over the seats. “Skull, <em>mooove</em>!”</p><p>Ryuji whines and sits up anyways as Ann crashes into his side in a mess of blonde hair and red latex. The rubber catches against the leather in an upsettingly shrill squeal that rings sharp and abrupt in the van. He catches Akira’s eyes in the rearview mirror, who slowly raises one dark eyebrow as Morgana chatters away. Ryuji shrugs and turns to get an elbow shoved roughly into his ribs.</p><p>“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this outfit,” Ann says in dismay. Her pigtails are limp and stringy with sweat, red mask pushed up away from her face.</p><p>“I dunno, I think it suits you,” he pauses. “The tail is weird, though.”</p><p>Very abruptly, Ryuji gets the feeling that he’s said something wrong, going off the sharp way Ann’s eyes narrow. “Oh?” Her voice sounds like his mom’s when he’s given her a particularly poor excuse for not doing his homework. “How does it suit me?”</p><p>“It’s all bold and confident!” Ryuji starts quickly. “Like you were in middle school, when you and Shiho were bossin’ me around all the time.”</p><p>Ann laughs. That was obviously the right thing to say because she smiles all bright and wide and infectious. “I remember that. You used to be <em>so </em>sweet back then, and <em>little.</em>”</p><p>“You were only two centimeters taller than me.”</p><p>“So small.” A grin, “Whatever happened to that cute kid?”</p><p>Kamoshida happened, but Ryuji swallows that down and says, instead, “I grew up! It’s not like you and Shiho stayed the same either.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann says, too soft. Aw, shit. Her eyes are bright and shining even in the gloom of Mementos, which zooms by in a blur of red and black. “I guess we all changed.”</p><p>There’s a beat of silence. Even Joker and Morgana’s conversation has puttered out. Their leader looks half-asleep, red gloves clenched firmly at the wheel as Mementos shudders and moans like a living beast. A hulking shadow lingers in a dead-end passage that the Monabus zips past without notice, and Ryuji can’t muster the effort to gawk at its monstrous size, too busy staring dumbly at the tears in Ann’s eyes.</p><p>“Do you remember,” Ryuji starts, slow. “When Kiyotaka threw up on me in class.”</p><p>Ann makes a wet sound somewhere between a snort and laugh. “Yeah. I let you borrow my socks, and then you went and stretched them out.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to!”</p><p>“They were my favorite socks!” She laughs, knocking her arm against his. “The ones with the cherries on them.”</p><p>“Just add it to my tab.”</p><p>“Alright. You owe me fifteen thousand yen.”</p><p>“You’re shitting me! No way in hell a pair of socks costs that much!”</p><p>“But the <em>nostalgia</em> value! Ryuji, they were my favorite socks!”</p><p>Ryuji makes a wordless noise of protest. Ann laughs and leans against his shoulder, their arms pressed together. “Y’know,” she says, a bit breathless. “I don’t think we’ve talked like this since middle school.”</p><p>She’s right. In his head, Ann Takamaki is still a bright-eyed kid who wears her hair down and stained her mouth with strawberry candy every day at lunch. Ryuji still hasn’t managed to reconcile the Ann from his memories with this older, familiar stranger.</p><p>“I mean, there was all that shit with Kamoshida.”</p><p>“That was like…business,” she says the word as if it was bitter, sharp and clipped. “I think the last time I talked to your mom you still had black hair.”</p><p>“Don’t remind me.”</p><p>“The blonde suits you,” continues Ann. “Verdict’s still out on the outfit, though.”</p><p> “I think it’s cool!” Ryuji says defensively, and then, smirking. “At least <em>I </em>don’t have a tail.”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>? Are you a fashion expert now?” Ann rises up on a leg, flicking her fingers against his forehead.</p><p>“I know a bad look when I see one.”</p><p>Oh, shit. Now he’s done it. Ann’s eyes gleam with righteous fury, teeth flashing in a sharp grin. “Those are fighting words!” She sings, and Ryuji gets a mouthful of sweaty hair and a hand scrubbing roughly against his scalp.</p><p>He reaches up and threads his fingers through her hair and <em>pulls</em>—not too hard though, that would just be mean. Ann gasps and attacks him with renewed strength, shouting the same way she did when they were younger.</p><p>“Don’t make me turn this car around,” Akira says.</p><p>When Ann sits back down and Ryuji can see something other than <em>hair, </em>he realizes that they’ve stopped, parked at the subway entrance. Joker is half-turned in the driver’s seat, one arm slung out over the passenger seat. His smile flashes beneath his mask.</p><p>“Get out!” Morgana cries. “I’m tired of being a car.”</p><p>Akira opens the door and, before he slides out with all the grace and ease in the world, raises his hand in a two-fingered salute. “Good job today, team.”</p><p>The pair of them exit through the rear doors and Morgana immediately poofs back into his normal appearance, somewhere between an average cat and Pokémon.</p><p>“Your roots are coming in,” Ann says on the escalator back into the real world. “Just so you know.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” says Ryuji, exasperated and gentle.</p><p>He’ll have to pick up a new box of dye on the way home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. may 9th, pollen warning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two days later, Ann boards the train to Shibuya the moment school is out, squeezed between Akira, Ryuji, and a throng of students eager to be out for the day.</p>
<p>The plan is simple: head to Mementos, change the heart of Daisuke Takanashi, and be out by four. An in-and-out affair. Ryuji has dinner plans with his mom, Akira has to be back in Yongen-Jaya before sunset, and Ann plans to spend the rest of her night cycling between all the games on her phone instead of studying.</p>
<p>Well, that had <em>been</em> the plan. She’s been standing at the entrance to Mementos for almost five minutes, Akira a very quiet presence at her side, watching Ryuji argue with a car.</p>
<p>“I’m <em>not </em>letting you drive!” Morgana cries. He’s sealed the door shut, as Ryuji uselessly tugs at the handle.</p>
<p>“Why not!? I don’t see anyone else volunteerin’!”</p>
<p>“You don’t even know how to drive!”</p>
<p>“Akira doesn’t and you let him!”</p>
<p>“That’s different. A numbskull like you is more likely to crash us into the wall!”</p>
<p>“<em>What</em> was that?”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Akira starts, raising his hands. “You know what, I can drive. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“It’s <em>not </em>okay!” Ryuji points an accusatory finger, oddly intimidating beneath his mask. “You said you ain’t feeling great, so you’re gonna lay down in the backseat and <em>rest.</em>”</p>
<p>He sounds like his mom, Ann realizes. One time in middle school, Ryuji had been out sick and Ann came by to bring him the week’s homework. All snotty and quiet, he offered her a snack, and his mother came home early to her son out of bed, crumbs all over their homework, watching a Featherman rerun on the television. Ryuji draws himself up in the same way as Sakamoto-san, mirroring the firm, gentle reprimand in her tone, banishing Akira off to the backseat like a child out of bed.</p>
<p>She can’t help it; she huffs out a quick laugh. Two sets of eyes and a pair of headlights descend upon her.</p>
<p>“Lady Ann! What about you?” Morgana purrs. “You can drive!”</p>
<p>“I’ll pass. Thanks.” It was a long day at school, all Ann has the mental capacity for is to set a shadow on fire and take a nap on the way back out.</p>
<p>“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Ryuji crows, loud and triumphant, as Morgana makes a pitiful sounding <em>noooo. </em>When he pulls on the handle, the door still stays firmly closed. “C’mon, what’s your deal?”</p>
<p>“Skull is not driving,” Morgana insists.</p>
<p>Akira sighs all sharp, shutting his eyes, “Morgana—!”</p>
<p>“Mona,” says Ryuji. “Let me drive and I’ll tell you stories about Ann in middle school. That sound like a fair trade?”</p>
<p>All at once, the doors to the Monabus fly open, and Ryuji leaps into the driver’s seat before Ann can muster a <em>Hey! </em>in protest. Akira’s shoulders slump down, and their leader gracefully throws himself into the backseat. Once she’s in the middle row, the doors slide shut and Ryuji peels down the tracks with an eager shout.</p>
<p>Ann tries to ignore the conspiratorial way Ryuji whispers in the front seat, Morgana’s coos and purrs, how he keeps glancing at her in the rearview mirror, grinning. If her phone worked, she could at least play a game, but the screen only lights up with the red glow of the Meta-Nav.</p>
<p>In the backseat, Akira sniffles, choking down a quiet cough. Ryuji and Morgana start to snicker, and Ann turns, rocking up on her knees to peer down at him. The leader of the Phantom Thieves is stretched out over the leather, heels kicked up against the window. He looks a bit more washed out than usual, skin pale against the rich black of his coat, eyes-tinged red beneath his mask.</p>
<p>Joker looks awful.</p>
<p>“You look awful,” Ann says. “You feeling okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s really just allergies. Different pollen in the city and all that.”</p>
<p>“If you weren’t feeling great, we could have just come another day.”</p>
<p>“You sound like Ryuji,” Akira says, smiling at the expression on her face. Rude. “We were all free today, might as well be efficient and get it done now.”</p>
<p>“If we were all free, couldn’t we have just made plans to go eat or something?”</p>
<p>“I’m still recovering from the buffet,” he pauses, blinking up at her. Then, “Are <em>you</em> alright? You’ve been quiet today.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Ann replies automatically. “Well…I mean, school wasn’t super great.”</p>
<p>“I saw. Ushimaru really chewed you out.”</p>
<p>“I know! It’s not my—!”</p>
<p>Ryuji and Morgana break into a fit of laughter so loud it shakes the bus. Ann can catch snippets of her name, and frowns at Ryuji when he turns around to stick out his tongue at her. In a fluid motion, undercut by a sneeze, Akira sits up and pats at his side. “There’s room for two. It’s a bit quieter back here anyways.”</p>
<p>“Why am I the one always crawling back here,” says Ann, kicking her leg over. She spills over the side in a rush of limbs, settling next to Akira as he hooks his long legs over the back of the middle row.</p>
<p>“So, bad day at school?”</p>
<p>“Yeah—I mean, I’ve felt this way for a while—it just feels so pointless? Midterms are in two days and I <em>know </em>I should be studying but I can’t bring myself to really care.”</p>
<p>“Pointless?”</p>
<p>“After everything with Kamoshida, this Phantom Thieves stuff, it all feels so boring? Like, this all feels so larger than life—I’m going out and actually helping people, making a <em>difference, </em>trying to memorize math formulas kind of pales in comparison, you know?”</p>
<p>Akira lets out a low laugh that morphs into a cough. “Trust me, I know how you feel.”</p>
<p>“But I also feel so guilty,” Ann pauses. Swallows around the lump in her throat. “I should be grateful that I <em>can </em>go to school, because that’s just another thing Shiho can’t do, that Kamoshida stole from her.”</p>
<p>In the corner of her eye, Ann watches Akira sit up straighter, head turned to look right at her. “It makes me feel like such a bad person, and a terrible friend.”</p>
<p>“You’re allowed to complain,” Akira starts. Slowly, he leans forward and presses one gloved hand against her shoulder, hesitant. “I don’t think it makes you a bad person, and I think Shiho would agree with me. She seems like a nice girl.”</p>
<p>“She really is,” Ann smiles. Then, “Wow! I’m sorry for dumping all that on you. ”</p>
<p>“It’s fine.”</p>
<p>“No—it’s not! I should have at least asked if it was okay. Let me take you out for crepes tomorrow or something. I’ll pay.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Akira concedes. “Skull and I are going to cram at the diner on Central Street tomorrow night, if you want to come.”</p>
<p>“I probably should. I’m so behind.”</p>
<p>“That makes three of us.”</p>
<p>Again, the sound of laughter from the front row. “—and then, Ann went to the teacher and—!”</p>
<p>“Ugh, this sucks. I can’t believe he went and threw me under the bus like that.”</p>
<p>“Panther,” Akira tilts his head, grey eyes flashing brighter than an Agi spell. “You must know some embarrassing stories about Skull, right?”</p>
<p>She grins, wide and slow. “You know, a few things come to mind.”</p>
<p>“It can be our little secret,” he smirks and raises a red finger to his lips.</p>
<p>Right at that moment, Ryuji decides to crash the Monabus into a shadow at full speed. Joker and Ann slam into the seats in front of them, skin stinging against the leather.</p>
<p>“Hah!” Ryuji shouts. “Got ‘em!”</p>
<p>He does not, in fact, ‘got ‘em’. The shadow melts into a smoky puddle and a hideous monster—oh wait, no, it’s actually kind of cute! All round, blue and white, it bounces in front of the Monabus like a little mascot toy, beaming up at them. Ann nearly coos at the sight.</p>
<p>And then it hurls the ice spell at them.</p>
<p>“Oh shit!”</p>
<p>“Skull! <em>What </em>were you thinking!”</p>
<p>“I didn’t expect it to survive gettin’ hit by a car!”</p>
<p>Joker is already launching himself out the back doors of the Monabus, knife twirling through his fingers. As he skids onto the tracks, he turns back at her and winks, “You owe me a story!”</p>
<p>“Sounds like a plan!” Ann cries after him, fire snapping at her fingertips.</p>
<p>She reaches down to that foreign and familiar part of her heart and summons Carmen into the dark tunnels of Mementos. She’s resplendent in her glamor, her fiery passion, and Ann feels a burst of fondness when her Persona grins down at her, bright red lips and sharp teeth.</p>
<p>The shadow does not last very long.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Everything always gets so deep with Ann. I swear this fic is mostly lighthearted. </p>
<p>Thanks to everyone for the comments and kudos! I appreciate it very much!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. may 14th</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Lettin’ Ann drive was a mistake,” says Ryuji.</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Akira can’t help but agree as Ann pulls a sharp turn and his head cracks against the fake glass of the window. It still hurts, even if the bus is actually a cat. Morgana squeals as his tire tread screeches against the rails, and the sound echoes through the hauntingly empty tunnels of Mementos.</p>
<p>“Everyone gets a chance to drive the Monabus,” Akira elects to say instead, mustering up his best imitation of someone calm, collected and not anxious that Ann’s next swerve is going to send them all flying through the windshield.</p>
<p>Would that hurt Morgana? What corresponding body part makes the most sense to be the equivalent of a windshield? This is an entirely stupid train of thought.</p>
<p>“How’d you do on midterms?”</p>
<p>Ryuji groans. “Dude! Why the hell you would bring that up!?”</p>
<p><em>I desperately need something to focus on or I’m going to throw up and Morgana is never ever going to let it go</em>, he thinks.</p>
<p>“You did that bad, huh?” Akira says.</p>
<p>Beneath his mask, Ryuji’s face cycles rapidly between a series of strained expressions and settles into a resigned pout, huffing. “I ‘effing blew it. And I actually tried studyin’ this time.”</p>
<p>That’s true. Ryuji made a very valiant effort at the Central Street diner, hunched over his notebooks while Ann very patiently walked Akira through English demonstrative nouns.  </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure I failed the history portion.”</p>
<p>“You too!? What the hell was up with that? We barely talked about that Minamoto guy in class.”</p>
<p>“Don’t forget about his brother,” Akira says, a bit bitter. He had spent over fifteen minutes trying to remember <em>anything </em>about the Heian period. Morgana had sighed and tutted at him over his half-hearted answers, which was honestly a bit annoying. “He was on the exam too.”</p>
<p>Ryuji slumps back against the leather seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why does Ushimaru put that shit on the tests? It’s like he wants us to fail.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Akira says. “I guess we can always do better on term finals.”  </p>
<p>A groan. “Don’t remind me. My mom’s already gonna be so disappointed.”</p>
<p>“Disappointed?” Akira asks, frowning.</p>
<p>There’s a beat. Ryuji deflates into his seat almost defensively, jaw tense. His left leg is jumping, tapping the tips of his steel-toed boots against the floor of the Monabus. “She saw me studyin’ and I think I got her hopes up.”</p>
<p>“Skull, you don’t have to talk about this if you—.”</p>
<p>“Nah, it’s okay. Guess I’m kinda anxious to show her my grades.”</p>
<p>“That’s a normal feeling to have,” Akira says placidly. Is it actually? He hasn’t felt a strong emotion about his parents in years. “I’m sure she just wants you to be happy.”</p>
<p>“I want her to be proud of me,” Ryuji huffs. This conversation is wildly careening outside Akira’s area of expertise, and the leader of the Phantom Thieves slowly tilts his head, urging him to continue. “I mean—it wasn’t always like this. I used to be able to at least pass my tests.”</p>
<p>“You’re a second year now, the material is harder.”</p>
<p>“I’m also stupid.”</p>
<p>“You are not stupid,” Akira snaps, and Ryuji’s eyes widen beneath the glossy sheen of his mask, startled. “Not everyone gets something the first time. Let’s study together again—I don’t know if I’ll be much help but—!”</p>
<p>“Woah!” Ryuji elbows his side, grinning. “Chill out, bro. I appreciate the offer but studying’s not the issue.</p>
<p>What <em>is</em> the issue? Are the teachers deliberately failing him? Does he have a terrible seat in the classroom? Is Ryuji not sleeping enough? Those might be hard to fix by Akira can at least try.</p>
<p>He raises a brow, to hopefully convey, <em>well what is the issue? Tell me so I can fix it. </em></p>
<p>As if it’s the most casual, normal thing in the world, Ryuji says: “Nothin’ I’m not already used to. It’s just hard to focus—got too much energy. Was easier back when I could run.”</p>
<p>Akira frowns, quiet, and Ryuji smiles, knocking their knees together. “Hey! Don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p>“Hm.”</p>
<p>“Bro, this ain’t something you can really fix.”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh.”</p>
<p>A laugh, playful. “You care way too much,” says Ryuji.</p>
<p>He does. It’s how Akira ended up shipped to Tokyo in the first place, with all its overwhelming crowds and bright lights. A bustling metropolis where no one cares who you are. The anonymity of it all is refreshing. In his hometown, everyone knew everyone and everything. From your baby stories to local drama and family secrets.</p>
<p>Caring too much is what brought him to Ryuji and Ann, too, and so Akira can’t really find it in himself to regret it.</p>
<p>“So, that guy this morning, he was pretty weird, right?”</p>
<p>Akira jolts out his thoughts, “Hah, <em>pretty </em>weird.” Wow, that didn’t come out nearly as clever or funny as he thought it would.</p>
<p>“He has no business havin’ eyelashes that long,” Ryuji says, taking pity on him. “They’re nicer than Ann’s.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?”</p>
<p>“Hey! How long have you listenin’!?”</p>
<p>“Long enough,” Ann chirps from the driver’s seat, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “Kitagawa-kun does have nice eyelashes, but that doesn’t matter if he’s—.”</p>
<p>“He’s <em>so </em>creepy, Lady Ann!” Morgana finishes.</p>
<p>“Well, no—I was going to say—,”</p>
<p>“Weird,” says Akira.</p>
<p>“<em>Pretty </em>weird,” Ryuji echoes, like an asshole.</p>
<p>Ann laughs. “Yes, he is indeed pretty and weird.”</p>
<p>“Lady Ann! Please don’t tell me it was love at first sight!”</p>
<p>“Anyways,” she continues. “We’re here, in case you two haven’t noticed yet.”</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you didn’t’ kill us,” Ryuji says. As Akira exits the car, he hears the sound of Ann throwing herself into the backseat with a shout.</p>
<p>“And you have room to talk? <em>You’re </em>one that crashed the Monabus!”</p>
<p>Today’s target is Yoshimori Sakoda. Mishima had sent the details over on the Friday, and Akira had hesitantly noted the request down in his probation diary. Ann’s parked the Monabus into a dead-end passage, and at the end of the tunnel, something shifts in the air, moaning. It almost looks half-alive, this gaping red wound in reality, a swirling mass of black and red smoke that pulsates like a living heart.</p>
<p>A hand descends on Akira’s shoulder, bright golden yellow. His steel pipe is slung up and propped over his shoulder, skull mask pulled low. “You ready?”</p>
<p>“I know I am,” Ann chimes, whip curled up in her pink gloves. “Need to get out all that lingering midterm aggression.”</p>
<p>“Ushimaru screw you over too!?”</p>
<p>Akira laughs, “Enough about Ushimaru, we see him every day at school. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>His friends fall into step at his side, Morgana a familiar presence at his back. They pass through the portal with a silent whoosh.</p>
<p>They have a heart to steal.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the history part of the exam screwed me over so bad i started using a guide for all the classroom answers. rant over. being rank one knowledge is hard.</p>
<p>yusuke is pretty. </p>
<p>thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. may 20th, pollen warning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I do not understand why this is necessary. As you have all seen, my Persona is more than capable.”</p>
<p>Joker sighs, clicking his tongue. His mask is aesthetically clean, all white and black. It emphasizes the grey in his wide eyes, and the resigned determination in his gaze. “I know. But I’m not letting you back in that palace until you have more experience fighting shadows. That’s final.”</p>
<p>Goemon bristles within his heart, but Yusuke decides to concede this battle. “I understand.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Kurusu says. “I promise we’ll finish our infiltration by the end of next week. “Mona.”</p>
<p>At his name, the cat launches himself off the platform and onto the tracks. With a poof of white smoke, a van idles, engine purring. Huh. Yusuke blinks, and follows Joker onto the tracks.</p>
<p>“What kinda reaction was that?” Skull mutters lowly, hopping down after them.</p>
<p>Takamaki lands next to him with quiet grace—Panther is a more fitting code name than he thought. “Not everyone’s as dramatic as you,” she says, nudging Skull with her elbow.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Joker starts. He’s got one foot kicked up into the driver’s seat, hand resting on the hood of the van. The tails of his coat sway in the strange, humid breeze. “We’ll head down until we find the next platform with a waiting room and then split for the day. Sound good?”</p>
<p>Yusuke nods, while the other two thieves chorus their agreement. With a smirk, Joker ducks into the bus, shutting the door behind him. He settles into the final row, propping up his katana between and the window.</p>
<p>Outside the bus, Skull and Panther are bickering again. In the few days that Yusuke has been a Phantom Thief, it has become a frequent occurrence—both in person and over phone chats. Joker tilts his head, patiently listening in, before Morgana catches his attention.</p>
<p>“I ain’t sitting next to him, it’ll be weird,” says Sakamoto.</p>
<p>“Now you’re just being mean,” Panther says, huffing.</p>
<p>Yusuke leans forward, peering out the side door. “To be honest, I do not wish to sit next to you either, Skull.”</p>
<p>The pair of blondes jump apart. Sakamoto opens his mouth wide—he has surprisingly symmetrical teeth, very even—as if to craft some sloppy retort. Before he can speak, Takamaki fixes him with a look so sharp that his jaw clicks closed with an audible sound.</p>
<p>“See, he made it weird.”</p>
<p>Panther climbs into the bus, ignoring him. “Is it alright if I sit with you?”</p>
<p>“Of course!” Yusuke sweeps a hand out. “You are more than welcome to join me.”</p>
<p>This is the perfect opportunity to examine his muse, pick apart those miniscule details only visible up close—the angle of her jaw, the exact shape of her cupid’s bow. The way she exudes grace, elegance.</p>
<p>Takamaki trips on her own tail, and crashes face-first into the seat, instead. Skull laughs so hard he snorts snot onto the fine leather interior, a few tears streaking down the exposed portion of his face. Kurusu raises an eyebrow in the rearview mirror, a wry smile on his face, before he pulls the bus away from the entrance.</p>
<p>“Are you alright, Takamaki-san?”</p>
<p>“You can call me Ann, you know,” she says, settling into the seat. The delicate shell of her ear is nearly as red as her latex suit, flushed. “I’m fine!”</p>
<p>“For real? It looks like you ate shit,” Skull says from the middle row, snickering.</p>
<p>Panther rocks up on her legs, swatting at the back of his head, and Yusuke turns to gaze out the window, watching color and shadow streak by.</p>
<p>Mementos is ugly. The harsh palate of red and black, the lack of lighting, and the grime coating every surface. Subway trains screech and scream down the rails, cacophonously echoing against the tunnels, accompanied by the moans of shadows and the strange cognitive people, mindlessly waiting on the platforms like ghosts.</p>
<p>This strange place is humanity’s palace, if Yusuke correctly understood Morgana’s explanation. A culmination of the public’s darkest and deepest desires. Precious and hidden away in this wretched underground.</p>
<p>This cognitive manifestation of the people of Tokyo is quiet and subdued, haunting almost, when compared to the gaudy décor of Madarame’s museum. Gilded and glittering, half-finished portraits of his pupils lining the walls like trophies gathering dust.</p>
<p>Mementos is the opposite of his mentor’s palace, tarnished and quiet, dark and gloomy.</p>
<p>And for that, it is beautiful.</p>
<p>“What are you thinking about?”</p>
<p>He turns and Ann is staring at him, eyes bright beneath the rich maroon of her mask. She must have won her battle, for Skull has retreated to lean over Joker’s shoulder, laughing.</p>
<p>“I am thinking that I should have brought a sketchbook.” A lack of foresight on his part, Yusuke’s hands feel restless, twitching around a phantom brush.</p>
<p>“A sketchbook?” Ann echoes. “You want to draw Mementos? Isn’t it kind of gross here, though?”</p>
<p>“Oh yes, it is quite hideous,” Yusuke agrees. Ann’s brows furrow in a very delicate way, skin wrinkling like fine linen. “But does that not make it worthy of appreciating in its own way?”</p>
<p>“I guess. It’s sort of similar in modeling, sometimes people with unconventional features are more striking.”</p>
<p>“Precisely.” Yusuke knew he was right to choose her as a muse. At Madarame’s exhibit, she understood the nuances of color, the depth of emotion, the composition.</p>
<p>“But I don’t know. Sometimes ugly things are just ugly,” Ann says, and Yusuke is abruptly and irrationally disappointed in her.</p>
<p>“I would disagree. Even the most hideous of things have beauty within them, no matter how small.”</p>
<p>“Of course! I’m just saying that it’s okay for something to just be ugly. Not everything has to be beautiful to be of worth.”</p>
<p>This takes Yusuke a bit off guard. Blinking. Madarame would never have said anything like that. There is no profit in ugliness, in the kind of art meant to provoke than be admired. Art as protest. The kind of installations meant to rot away, decay into obscurity.</p>
<p>“You’re staring at me,” says Ann.</p>
<p>Yusuke returns to the backseat of the bus, Panther watching him. Her eyes are beautiful. A pleasant shape. Their color, of course, is sufficiently rare but that is not what makes them so striking.  </p>
<p>Ann’s eyes are very kind. Warm, patiently watching him recollect himself. Yusuke very much wants to paint them, to capture that warmth on a canvas. To look and see kindness immortalized.</p>
<p>“My apologies,” he starts. “Would you terribly mind trying to model for me again?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Uh,” Ann starts. She looks confused, perhaps Yusuke was not clear enough.</p>
<p>“You may feel free to wear as many clothes as you wish, I only wish to capture the intensity of your gaze. I believe you left an ample selection of your closet on my floor.”</p>
<p>“My clothes! I totally forgot I left those there!”</p>
<p>What a novelty, Yusuke thinks. He keeps perfect inventory of all his clothes: a small set of uniforms, two shirts, a coat, a pair of shoes. Meticulously washes them by hand and hangs them to dry next to wet canvas.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Yusuke,” Ann continues. “I’ll come by and pick those up as soon—!”</p>
<p>“I would not recommend that. It would be too risky if Madarame were to see you. Don’t fret, I have already washed and folded them all for you.”</p>
<p>“What? You—you washed my clothes?”</p>
<p>“They were on the floor.”</p>
<p>“Couldn’t you just have—I don’t know—left them there?”</p>
<p>“I enjoy an orderly workspace,” Yusuke says. And then, “Would you consider my request?”</p>
<p>“To model for you?” Ann tilts her head, biting at her lip. Thinking, perhaps. “I—!”</p>
<p>Before she can answer, Joker yells, “Shadow incoming!”</p>
<p>“Hell yeah! Ram it with the car!” Skull shouts, falling back into the middle row.</p>
<p>“Hold on!” Kurusu grins, revving the engine.</p>
<p>They slam into the shadow at breakneck speed. It collapses, reeling, and Morgana transforms, launching all the passengers out onto the tracks. Yusuke’s feet skid against the grime, snatching his katana from mid-air, as Ann lands at his side—this time the very picture of balance and grace.</p>
<p>“Show us what you’re made of Fox!” Skull shouts; Panther follows up with an encouraging cheer, whip unfurled at her feet.</p>
<p>At Joker’s quiet nod, Yusuke summons Goemon into the world, ice freezing his fingertips. Practice does make perfect.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i love yusuke, he's in a three-way tie for my favorite persona character (guess who the other two are). as an art history major, he's a lot of fun to write about simply so i can inject my own thoughts on art and art theory. he's also such a perceptive guy i feel that i can really go ham on the descriptions. </p>
<p>hope you all enjoyed! thanks for the comments and kudos! reading them is always a pleasure</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. may 24th</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They push through the rest of Madarame’s palace with ease, securing the route to the treasure with a little under two weeks left to spare. All that’s left is to send the calling card, which means Akira needs cash to buy supplies.</p>
<p>Which means, an afternoon in Mementos.</p>
<p>It’s weird how much money these shadows are carrying around—it’s not like they have anything to use it for, but Ryuji’s not complaining. They always split the money evenly, and extra pocket money is nice. He’s been saving up to buy his mom something, like a fancy new rice cooker to replace their old one. Maybe take her out to dinner, if she wants. And if Ryuji can find a way to explain away the sudden influx in cash that doesn’t make it sound like he’s joined a gang.</p>
<p>Well, in a way the Phantom Thieves are a gang. A very small one taking out evil adults but—</p>
<p>Whatever.</p>
<p>Akira’s driving today, Ann keeping him company in the passenger seat. It’s just Ryuji and Yusuke stretched in the middle row, a sketchbook and a copy of Kamoshida’s calling card between them.</p>
<p>Ryuji doesn’t get art—and he sure as hell doesn’t get Yusuke—but it sure is interesting to watch him work. His fox mask has been pushed up into his hair, fingers flying over the paper. A shape starts to emerge, a line here, a smudge there.</p>
<p>He had been pretty proud of Kamoshida’s calling card, spent an entire night handwriting each one, working out the phrasing. He’s glad to see Yusuke hasn’t totally scrapped the design, electing to simply add onto it. Tweak it into something more dynamic and sleek.</p>
<p>“You were the one who originally came up with the calling card, yes?”</p>
<p>It takes a moment to process that Yusuke spoke, so focused he seems on his work. “Hah,” Ryuji says, hooking his fingers around the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was all me!”</p>
<p>The artist hums. It is a very neutral sound. His hands flurry across the page of his sketchbook, which he’s propped up into his lap out of Ryuji’s line of sight.</p>
<p>“I must praise your choice of color palate. The contrast between the red and black is quite striking.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” says Ryuji, pretending he understands exactly what that means. A pause, quiet except for the faint scratches of the pencil and the sound of Akira’s low voice in the front seat. Then, “How’re you feeling?”</p>
<p>“I am quite well today, although I am bit hungry. Thank you for asking.”</p>
<p>“Not like that! I meant—are you okay with all this?” He gestures loosely towards the calling card. “Ain’t Madarame practically your dad?”</p>
<p>Yusuke’s hands still. He very slowly lifts his dark eyes up to meet Ryuji’s gaze. “Madarame was my sole paternal figure, yes, although I doubt he would see it in the same way.”</p>
<p>“Aw dude, you’re deflecting.”</p>
<p>“Deflecting what?”</p>
<p>“Answerin’ my question! I just wanna make sure we aren’t pushing you too much.”</p>
<p>“You are not <em>pushing </em>me. If I have given the impression that I am hesitant, that is not true,” he says.</p>
<p>“That’s not—!”</p>
<p>“He must be stopped. We will make Madarame repent for his crimes, for all the students he consumed for profit, for defiling the sanctity of—,” his voice is pitching up, louder and less reserved than Ryuji is used to—apart from when he awoke his Persona for the first time. It makes Yusuke sound more like a kid their age, instead of some monk trapped in a teenager’s body. Refreshing, almost. “Sensei—Madarame,” Yusuke corrects himself, voice calm. “We will change his heart, return to school and await the day that the exhibition closes.”</p>
<p>“The rest of us will be with you all the way!” Ryuji says, flashing a thumbs up. “Make sure you keep your head low at—Kosei, right? You’re his student so you don’t want anyone to get suspicious.”</p>
<p>“That will not be a problem, I assure you,” Yusuke says. “Nobody talks to me in the first place.”</p>
<p>Aw shit. “Oh,” Ryuji starts. “Uh. Well—wanna go get a beef bowl sometime, man?”</p>
<p>“Would this evening be agreeable to you?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” It seems <em>sometime </em>means immediately in Yusuke time. “Why not.”</p>
<p>“Delightful,” Yusuke says flatly. He abruptly turns the sketchbook around to face Ryuji. “What do you think?”</p>
<p>Emblazoned on white paper is the rough sketch of the calling card, blocked out in graphite shading. Yusuke has taken the grinning face from Kamoshida’s card and turned it at an angle, emphasizing the hat. A mask that looks almost identical to Akira’s sits under the brim, with a strip of flame streaking dramatically through one eye. The entire piece is situated in concentric circles, alternating in color.</p>
<p>It looks cool as hell. Even better once it’s done in color, all red and black.</p>
<p>“Fox,” Ryuji starts. “This is the sickest thing I’ve ever seen.”</p>
<p>“Sick? I—.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Joker, Panther,” he waves a hand between them to grab their attention. “Look at what Fox drew.”</p>
<p>The pair of them turn and Ann’s eyes go as wide as saucers beneath her mask. Yusuke holds his sketchbook like a little kid presenting a project, pencil tucked behind his ear, keeping the paper close to his chest.  “Ah!” She cries, half-leaned over the back of the seat. Her hair is falling into Ryuji’s face, and he swats at it. “Fox! I love it!</p>
<p>“It looks great,” Akira says, smiling, right as Morgana cries: “Joker! Keep your eyes on the road!”</p>
<p>Laughing, he catches Yusuke’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Will you have enough time to have the final product ready by Thursday?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” answers Yusuke. “I could have an entire batch ready for you as early as tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Nah, take your time.”</p>
<p>“Hell yeah, make sure they look badass!”</p>
<p>“Badass,” Yusuke echoes. “I suppose I could add a touch of…” His voice descends into a low murmur, plucking the pencil from behind his ear and pressing it to the paper. Ryuji stretches out, kicking his bad leg up on the seat, taking up whatever little free space is left between Yusuke’s long legs and the art supplies.</p>
<p>“Have you ever been to the beef bowl place on Central Street?”</p>
<p>“I have not.”</p>
<p>“Perfect,” Ryuji says. Maybe Yusuke isn’t as bad as he first seemed. "We'll head there once we're done for the day."</p>
<p>“Ah,” Fox says, lifting his eyes up. “Thank you advance for paying.”</p>
<p>Alright, scratch that.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the mementos line where yusuke says he has no friends is SO sad. congrats to yusuke and ryuji for finally getting beef bowls in their royal showtime. they one-shot a mementos boss for me using that mechanic once in my playthrough and i still have not recovered from the sheer joy that gave me.</p>
<p>thank you for the comments &amp; kudos!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this fic is lovingly dedicated to my 111 hour and 36 minute run of Persona 5 Royal, which I finished for the first time on Monday. </p><p>it is also dedicated to my ryuji figma</p></blockquote></div></div>
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